The Anarchist and the Oyster
by ExAstris
Summary: Midway through his duties to Mandrake, Bartimaeus is dismissed temporarily - only to be summoned again by a new magician, who claims their life is in jeopardy... because of the Parliament.
1. Unexpected Summons

**[Autor's Nose: This story is set between Golem's Eye and Ptolmey's Gate. It assumes both as canon. Obviously, I do not own these characters, nor is my name Jonathan Stroud. The magician is mine, however. PLEASE read and review – I don't care if it's good or bad, just tell me!] **

It wasn't Mandrake, I knew that much. This was a new one. Odd; most of the magicians in London knew I was his "servant"(1)... maybe they had taken his three-month dismissal of me as a sign that I was no longer being used. In any case, I was suprised - but more then willing to give a new, hopefully less dramatic, master a try...

The windows of the bright, airy room grew dark and stormy. Thunder clapped, lightning struck, and a charge filled the room, causing the electric lightbulbs powering lights set in the high ceiling to go out one by one. A pillar of smoke filled the circle, and columns of fire and roaring wind sprung up on either side of it. As the smoke deteriorated and the fire died down, a man could be seen.

He was a young boy, Egyptian and very tan, with a bright smile and vivid dark eyes.(2) I took the form as a tribute, and I rarely regretted it. He may not have been fearsome, or had horns, but at least Ptolemy had (relative) style.

I glanced around the room. It was in a hexagon shape, and the walls alternated between bookshelfs, a desk (at the far end, next to the door) and windows, which were quite tall. From what I could see, the room was itself the entire building, and was perched atop a beachy hill. Quite serene, and probably very expensive.(3) Most of the shelves contained the usual magicians' paraphernalia, but some of the shelves on the opposite side of the room, near the second pentacle, were filled with books apparently about mathematical formulae and other odd, scientific titles.

The aforementioned desk had a large board in front of it, on which sequences of numbers and several complex equations had been written. I tend to take things in pretty quickly, but most of the math was beyond my immediate comprehension.(4)

Of course, of more immediate importance were the only contents of the opposite pentacle. The boy swiveled his head and looked over, apprising the magician within.

It was a woman(5), fairly short and quite thin, with long brown hair held in a neat ponytail. Her grey eyes were unexpressive, sharp but unchanging. However, her face had an expression of mild assuredness bordering on smug – not unusual either. She wore plain, comfortable clothes – a simple, faded bluegrey top, and tan slacks. Her arms and legs were lanky and thin, but she moved with a fluid motion which led me to believe she was in much better physical condition then the average magician.

She considered me, for a moment, and then spoke. "You are Bartimaeus?" her words were terse, to the point.(6)

The woman was obviously experienced; it was unlikely I'd be able to unsettle her. Still, I decided to go for the gusto. In a roaring, thundering voice, quite reminiscent of the raging storm I had created outside, I said, "I am Bartimaeus, Sakhir Al-Jinni, N'Gorso the Mighty and Serpent of the Silver Plumes. I am Bartimaeus, who has conferred with Solomon, who build the walls of Prague, who-"

"Yes, yes. I know." She replied softly. Her expression did not change.

"Then you know I am a force not to be trifled with! Why have you summoned me, human?" I slowly returned to a more natural voice as I spoke. The effect was rather less echoey and voluminous then I had thought.(7)

"I have two simple charges for you, Bartimaeus. There is a party this night, at the house I own-"

"I see," I broke in, "Well, you're not much to look at, but I'm sure that with my good looks we'd make a charming couple."

"No," For a moment, the side of magician's mouth twitched. It returned to normal quickly, and she resumed her calm demeanor.(8) "You will do two things. Firstly, you will proceed to the airport in Durban, at which the British Prime Minister, Rupert Deveraux, is arriving, and you will locate and follow him until he arrives here. Secondly, during the course of the evening, you will observe silently and protect you."

"You have made two charges," I began, my voice again taking on a deeper timbre, "And in return, I have two questions.(9)"

"You may ask."

"Durban," I said, "We are in South Africa?"

"Yes, about 20 miles from the city itself."

"Very well, then. Who are you, and what is it that you fear happening to you at this… event?"

"That's three questions. I will answer only the second; the third you will find in time, I'm sure."(10)

"Fine. Go on," I encouraged her; the boy's neck bent forward as if listening to a secret, but his face sneered at her.

"I am afraid," the magician continued, "for my life."

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1 Meaning slave. D'oh.

2 In my opinion, much better then your average magician today. The fire and brimstone effect kind of wears off when you get a stubby chap wearing a cheap suit.

3 I'm guessing it started to sink into the sand every few years. Must've cost a fortune to maintain. Still, its décor was more tasteful then most.

4 Not, mind you, that I wouldn't have gotten it with a little study.

5 Generally unsurprising, equality was all the rage these days. For magicians, of course, not commoners.

6 They all had to know the name. The last one asked me that too. Funny, it's not like you'd call OUT the wrong name during the summoning, would you?

7 If she wasn't going to be scared or at least pretend to be interested, I didn't see a need to bother any further.

8 I love it when they're bubbling under the surface like this. Makes them easier to play with. Provoking this one might be hard, but I'd do it. It's more of an art, then anything, really.

9 Which she was under no obligation to answer. A lot of masters – erm, mistresses - give you vague orders, then punish you when you fail to complete them.

10 Clever girl – she didn't give me her name. Names, even fakes the magicians give themselves, are very powerful.


	2. Setting Off

**[Autor's Nose: This chapter is incomplete and will be finished later. As always, I do not own anything related to Bartimaeus except my own original character, who is yet to be named.]**

**Obviously, I do not own these characters, nor is my name Jonathan Stroud. The magician is mine, however. PLEASE read and review – I don't care if it's good or bad, just tell me!]**

"Afraid for my life." Well, that was dramatic, wasn't it? I searched through the list of magicians I knew, trying to recall this woman, but nothing came up. Still, if she was worried about members of the Parliament trying to off her, she must be of some influence.(1)

"From whom and what are you afraid of this?" I asked, pressing for more information. I wanted to get this over with quickly; lately, my visits to the Other Place had not been quite long enough for my liking. The more I knew, the better.

"I don't know." The woman said, sounding weary, "Just go. You have your commands."

I nodded, glad to be done, and the pillar of steam shot up from where my feet were planted. I changed into smoke and wisped out one of the windows, then changed into a small African bird and took flight.

As I left the building, I rose high into the air, and could see that the room we'd been in was part of a much larger complex; there was a sprawling main building, some sort of greenhouse, and off in the corner, a small room with a chimney that was belching steam. I guessed the entire area was self-sufficient; not using power or water from the nearby city.(2)

I perched on the roof of one of the smaller buildings near the main house, and surveyed the site. I needed a moment to gather my thoughts.

This woman was obviously rich, at the very least. And, if she'd summoned me, she was probably at a fair level of power, too.(3) But South Africa was at the farthest reaches of the Empire; it was practically autonomous, from what I'd gathered during my service to Mandrake. British power in the area was weakening; it was too expensive to send troops so far south. Magicians typically crowded together; tried to stay with each other.(4)

There were only two reasons (besides the aforementioned paranoia) that my new master would want to live in such an out of the way place: Either she was working on something secretive and didn't want to be bothered, or she'd been ostracized. Considering the fact that she was throwing a party for the Prime Minister, the former seemed more likely.

In the distance, I could see faint outlines of tall buildings; they must have been part of Durban. The bird changed from a small songbird into a falcon and leapt into the air, heading towards the city.

(1)Then again, many of those who are worried about being slain by other magicians severely overestimate their own standing. A pervious master of mine, a going-nowhere conjurer several centuries ago, was convinced the king of Persia wanted him executed. Absolutely mad, that one.

(2)This only served to bolster my suspicion that my new master was quite paranoid.

(3)That's not an errant brag; that's the truth, it is.

(4)So they were all up-to-date on each other's nefarious plans, of course.

**Nathaniel**

As the plane neared Durban's small airstrip, John Mandrake stared out of the window,

his eyes unfocused. Things weren't going well. Europe was at war, the Empire was facing rebels even at home, and yet the PM, Rupert Deveraux, had decided to pick up the entire ministry and send them all the way to South Africa just for a conference. The fact that the entire government had almost been killed at the last such conference wasn't making things any easier, either.

Deveraux was becoming less serious and more childlike every day. Propaganda wasn't rousing the commoners the way it used to, and even though it was never publically admitted, the war in America was as good as lost. This wasn't the time to be distracted, but there was nothing he could have done. He, as with all the other ministers, were absolutely tied to Deveraux's whims.

As he was about to take a drink from a glass at his side, the plane touched down, and Mandrake shuttered. His thoughts dissolved, Mandrake stood abrutly, nodded to the flight crew, and left (it was a chartered plane; who wanted to fly with commoners?). He stepped out into the sunny, warm air, and walked towards the terminal, where a small group of Ministers stood talking. One, a short but attractive brown-haired woman, noticed him:

"John. So glad you've safely arrived."

"The same to you, Ms. Farrar. I do hope you aren't waiting for me..?"

This concept seemed slightly repulsive to Jane Farrar, but she simply smiled easily and said, "Not at all. Rupert has asked that we all take separate cars... security reasons, apparantly." In a lower voice, she added, "I can't say I'm upset."

Mandrake nodded; he'd already make arrangments for his own vehicle. Giving Farrar a polite goodbye, he left the group. Behind him, in the guise of a small bird, a demon followed.


End file.
